


But Not For Lack Of Trying

by A_MX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Draco Malfoy is a sad bean and deserves my hugs, Gen, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Missed Opportunities, Morally Ambiguous Draco Malfoy, clandestine meetings, no beta we die like men, onnly slight tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_MX/pseuds/A_MX
Summary: This is the tale of the meeting that never was (but not for lack of trying).
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter
Kudos: 1





	But Not For Lack Of Trying

**Author's Note:**

> Sudden inspiration at 4am, ho! I didn't sleep, I hope it's not too noticeable. Just had this idea about how different things could've gone if someone had just given 6th year Draco a hug and some hot chocolate and went wild with it. First thing I've written in a while, I got a load of writer's block currently, even more glad to have finished this ficlet. Enjoy!

Draco shivered and pulled his coat tighter around himself. The snow had stopped falling a while ago, but the temperatures were chilling as ever, with the garment barely enough to keep the cold at bay. The spot he had picked was hidden from the castle’s view, tucked away behind a part of the Forbidden Forest, and he found himself glancing towards where he’d come from every few minutes.

It hadn’t been an easy decision, oh no. Draco had spent several hours agonising over his decision, mulling it over in his head time and again, before he had finally decided to set his plan in motion. Finding someone to carry it out had been easy, actually – there were plenty of students who cared little about houses when presented with an incentive, and a handful of galleons were more than enough to buy him a discreet courier. The note would have been delivered around dinner; with sufficient time to slip away.

 _Severus_ , Draco thought. He wouldn’t have needed to take such measures if it hadn’t been for Severus, for lack of a better word, _ambushing_ him during that party. And Slughorn, that useless fool.

Help Draco, why, of course. He had known Severus for years now, had enjoyed the benefits that came with being his favourite, reaped the fruits of his father and Severus’ mutual respect for each other. And if there was one thing he could say with absolute certainty, then it was that the man knew neither compassion nor selflessness. His offer to _help_ Draco, his reference to the Unbreakable Vow, were merely a thinly veiled threat; that he was willing to steal this assignment from him. Severus would take home all the glory, to the Dark Lord, it would only be one more failure from a Malfoy, and he, Draco, would have fallen victim to his mentor’s conspiring, just like his father had.

Not if Draco could help it.

He clenched his jaw when he considered the alternative he had chosen. Oh, there were forces powerful enough to protect him from the Dark Lord, but to ally himself with… well, with _him_ of all people… he could still back out of it, of course. Write it off as a hoax, a prank, pretend to be amused if anyone confronted him about it. And under any other circumstances, the idea of Potter making his way through the snow and the weather to freeze his arse off on the outskirts of the forests would have been amusing.

But not now, when, for the first time in his recently increasingly miserable life, he needed that cursed Gryffindor.

The previous night had been especially awful. The encounter with Severus had left Draco quite shaken, and it only further fuelled his ever-present nightmares. He had, in no uncertain terms, been made to understand just what would happen to him if he failed. Albus Dumbledore or Draco Malfoy, one of them would die before the end of the year, such were the expectations of the Dark Lord. How exactly that would happen… suffice it to say, Draco’s subconscious was more than happy to fill in the blanks, at night, every night, to the point that he had taken to putting a silencing charm around his bed.

A quick _Tempus_ told him that he had little over thirty minutes left until curfew. He glanced again towards the entrance of the clearing. His restless pacing notwithstanding, no other set of footprints had appeared in the snow. Potter hadn’t shown up, and he wasn’t going to.

Years of his father’s parenting had left Draco far too numb to anything resembling fear. Otherwise, it might have been difficult to resist the terror that threatened to overwhelm him. Potter wasn’t coming. Hogwarts’ precious Saviour was probably sitting in his common room with the mudblood and that ginger menace and having a good laugh over Draco’s note.

The snowfall had set in again as Draco hurried towards the castle. By the time he reached the Slytherin common room, the disappointment and fear had given way to his usual resentment. Fine. If that pathetic Gryffindor didn’t want his help, what did Draco care? He would manage, without Potter, without Severus. If only so he could live to see Potter’s face when he realised what a generous offer he had passed up on.

* * *

Harry silently cursed himself as he stuffed the invisibility cloak into his pocket. When some Hufflepuff fourth-year had shoved the piece of parchment in his hand after dinner, he hadn’t thought much of it – it wouldn’t have been the first time that Malfoy had dared him to meet, only this time, he certainly wouldn’t be naive enough to actually show up.

Right?

He’d spent the better part of the evening contemplating the matter. In the end, it hadn’t been so much his curiosity about whatever it was Malfoy was up to that had driven him to actually go, but rather his desire to escape the uncomfortable tension brewing between Ron and Hermione. So, after excusing himself from the common room, he had gathered his cloak and made off towards the spot described in Malfoy’s note.

And had promptly run into Slughorn, followed by an uncomfortably long conversation about Potions. Either the Professor had failed to pick up on Harry’s numerous attempts to politely cut short their discussion, or he had ignored them. Either way, when he had finally managed to escape, citing his homework as the reason, it had only been a few minutes before curfew, and he’d had to put on the cloak to leave the castle, until he was sure he was far enough away that the snowfall would disguise him.

Why Malfoy wanted to meet him in the first place? He had no idea. After what he had overheard between him and Snape during Slughorn’s party, for all he knew, he was being lured towards the forest so the bloody git could kill him right there and then. Not that Harry would let him, of course. Malfoy’s note hadn’t been much help either, just the place and the time.

A time he was now running seriously late for.

He reached into his back pocket and swore when he realised that he hadn’t brought the Marauder’s Map with him. No finding Malfoy the easy way then. Harry squinted at the trees ahead, scanning for the place the note had described. Right. That particularly tall tree _here_ and the group of pines _there…_

A few minutes later, he finally stumbled into a clearing that seemed to match the meeting spot. A fresh, thick layer of snow covered the ground, undisturbed except for his own footprints, with a handful of trees framing what could be considered the entrance. A fallen log maybe a dozen feet away was the only remarkable thing.

That, and a distinct lack of Malfoys.

Harry sighed in disappointment. It wasn’t that he had expected Malfoy to actually show up, at least not a few hours ago when he’d first read the invitation, no, the _request_ he come, but seeing without any room for doubt that he was alone was painful nevertheless. If nothing else, he would at least have appreciated an opportunity to further investigate what the other one was planning. A duel, a trap, anything would have been less frustrating than the realisation that he had been played. A few words on parchment and like a fool he had obeyed and showed up. He could vividly imagine Malfoy in the Slytherin common room, laughing with some of his goons over the idea of him taking the bait and wandering around after curfew, in the awful weather, when the wretched git had never even intended to show up.

Probably for the better, he mused. The last thing he would have needed was having to explain himself to Professor McGonagall if he and Malfoy had actually crossed wands.

Harry shrugged the snow off his shoulders and headed back towards the castle, pulling out the invisibility cloak as he approached. Slipping back in and making his way to the Gryffindor tower was hardly a challenge, despite almost running into Filch once, and only when he had gone to bed, dry again and already half-asleep, it occurred to him that he might have simply missed Malfoy.


End file.
